


Welcome Home, Old Friend

by RaeAnne



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, the millers daughter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-27
Updated: 2013-04-27
Packaged: 2017-12-09 17:51:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/776287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RaeAnne/pseuds/RaeAnne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is more or less a different take on The Miller's Daughter, where Rumplestiltskin makes a different choice and is left trying to figure out if it is the right one. </p>
<p>The oldest friends are the darkest ones, the most dangerous ones because they know your secrets. The oldest friends are hardest to escape for they always want to bring you back. -COMPLETE-</p>
            </blockquote>





	Welcome Home, Old Friend

**Author's Note:**

> The Sinking Man is by of Monsters and Men, not mine nor are the characters of Once Upon a Time. No money is being made or infringement intended. I hope you enjoy!

 

**  
Part One: With My Heart’s Every Beat**

_Cold, dark sea_   
_Wrapping its arms around me,_   
_Pulling me down to the deep._   
_All eyes on me._

Rumplestiltskin felt the poison move closer to his heart with it’s every beat. It was liquid hot fire in his veins and his betraying, traitorous heart was laboring heavy with it, killing him with every slow beat as it moved the blood and wretched witch’s poison through his body.

_“The boy will be your undoing”_ the seer’s words rang in his ears, he pressed harder into the compress that was against his chest. He coughed, a strangled, choking sound that hurt even worse than it sounded. His chest constricting with the pain the poison was in his lungs now, he felt it burning holes. He felt the acid eating away.

Part of him was angry; most of him was in pain. When he was angry, when he was in pain he knew that he went into the darkest parts of himself, he knew this and he welcomed it. In the darkness he didn’t have to look at it, he didn’t have to feel it. In the darkness there was the safety of no eyes upon his sins. The darkness was a constant friend.

“You’re Henry’s grandfather. We’re family now and I’m going to save you,” Emma was in front of him, earnestly, adamantly avowing to him his safety. He wanted to laugh at her words, laugh at the absurd and completely asinine promise. She could not promise that, she could not ensure that…not simply with the sheer will of her lofty words. There was no truth in it, no guarantee. That was not a deal she could make, well certainly not if she expected to keep it.

But they were family he realized, coldness in a wave washing over him. The truth of it cascaded through him, into him, into his veins mixing with that vile poison. This was the True Love of his son, of his Bae, this was the mother of his …his grandson. His grandson was the boy that would be his undoing.

The Dark One with no family, no confidants, no friends, no love, had somehow gathered back to his breast a son, a daughter, a grandson…and for a time his own True Love. He had never planned for that; never seen that, never believed it would have been possible.

_Find Bae_. Had been his only desire, his only goal for far too many years, his single focused sight. At the cost of everything, up to and including his life it would seem, he had found Bae, of that he had succeed.

Of course now he was dying, hope of surviving dwindling with every moment longer that the ship took to reach the shores of Storybrooke, dying with no salvation, no way to even consider all that he had now gained before he lost it once again, to the waves of the darkness that were pulling him down with welcoming arms, arms welcoming back their old friend.

 

* * *

**Part Two: Words Dead on My Tongue**

_I pushed you away_  
Although I wished you could stay.  
So many words left unsaid,  
But I’m all out of breathe.

The woman lay in the hospital bed a sick ache in her heart, an ache she didn’t know how to explain. With a mind void of memories it surely should have held, she wondered how to name the things she felt were missing. She felt empty and void, there was no better word she could recall…all words, all feelings were slippery things to her now. She would reach and she’d grasp, searching for them but finding they slid from her fingers, slid from the tip of her tongue, slid dead just off her tongue.

It was such an odd feeling, to feel so disconnected from everything, to wonder who you were, wonder about what was before, before the void, before those words went to die on her tongue…to feel the way she did. She laid with noting at all to compare this feeling to, no memories of what she might have been like before. She breathed out a long breath, if she could just explain why there was this ache in her chest.

Mr. Gold. The name floated into her mind, unbidden and from places unknown. The man was, well she had no idea who he was actually. He was something, someone to her, or whoever he thought she was. To this woman she might have possibly been before. To this Belle of his.

To her, this woman she didn’t know in her head, he had no meaning, no connection. But he was someone, so clearly someone.

She thought back on him, on his face. That beautiful and imperfect face. He was a handsome man even if she didn’t know who he was she knew he was handsome. Her eyes worked perfectly fine after all, it was just that her mind had decided to flee, or at least her memories, and with those any words that might have been once on her tongue to describe him, define him.

As much as she felt like she didn’t know who this Mr. Gold was, she felt equally she hadn’t even a beginning of an idea of whom she was. Except, except when Mr. Gold was around. He made her think perhaps she did, just a bit, just little. Made her think that perhaps she did know who she was, somewhere down deep.

He made her think that perhaps she knew just a little about this woman that dwelt in the voids, in blanks in her head.

She liked men in suits. This person, whoever she was.

She liked quirked smiles and kind eyes.

She liked the accent that this Mr. Gold had she liked his voice.

And the way he moved his hands.

This person that she was didn’t understand at all, these things that she apparently liked, didn’t understand why, but well, all doubts aside she liked them all the same.

She only felt these stirrings of faint interest around this baffling man. When that woman, what was her name? Ruby, yes that was it, had brought her that book? No, that wasn’t right, that woman did not know her, did not stir in her things that made her believe she might understand, it didn’t make her feel or think the way Mr. Gold did. He almost made her believe she could find out whom this woman in her head truly was.

He had terrified her at first, she still didn’t know why this traitorous mind was torturing her not just with the blanks and the voids, but with images of fireballs in this Mr. Gold’s hands.

She didn’t understand why that at the same time she was terrified to have him touching her, calling her Belle, to have him kissing her she also would look him and have a flicker, like the words and thoughts that slipped through her hands were almost back in her grasp. A flicker that said he was something more, that there was something she wasn’t seeing, that little something _more_. It left her exhausted, trying to remember things she didn’t know and feelings she didn’t understand.

Tired and weary she turned to her pillow, the pillow that was stiff and flat in a case that was scratchy and laid her head down with a sigh. It was of course, just as her mind started to settle that the phone decided to ring.

The voice on the other end was cracked, broken and filled with gutted pain. She knew the voice, the voice that spoke a name she didn’t recognize as her own, no matter how he claimed it was. A voice that somehow, in some why she still couldn’t name, touched a piece of her she knew was there, just misplaced, just forgotten, just slipped from her fingers, like that fragile china cup.

“Mr. Gold, I told you, I don’t remember you,” she felt the ache in her chest lessen at hearing the timbre of his accent breaking through, even while it increased, hearing the pain it came with. She sat up as much confused by the irrational feelings she had as by the evident pain in his voice. Something was wrong, something wasn’t right. The ache was increasing.

"I-I… I know. I know. It’s just… Sweetheart, I… I’m dying... I know that you’re…confused about who you are. So, I’m going to tell you. You are a hero, who helped your people. You’re a beautiful woman, who loved an ugly man. Really, really loved me.”

“You find goodness in others. And when it’s not there, you create it. You make me want to go back. Back, to the best version of me. And that never happened before. So, when you look in the mirror and you don’t know who you are, that’s who you are."

She hears the words, she hears what he’s saying and she finds she’s crying. She’s crying and she can’t stop. She doesn’t have words to say, they are all sliding from her fingers, dying on her tongue. She doesn’t know why she’s shaking in her marrow. This man that she doesn’t know, doesn’t remember is the reason for the ache in her chest, the reason that the voids in her uncooperative mind sting so bad.

She can’t stop crying. She wants to speak, but she can’t form the thoughts, she can’t find those words! Why are they forsaking her now!

Words her constant friends, her constant guide and comfort…

Words. Words upon pages…pages in a book.

Words. She knows them, she sees them, words her sanctuary and her salvation.

Words. Where were they now? Why had they abandoned her as she listens to this man breaking, dying with every breath and word he gives to her?

Why can’t she find them? Why can’t she remember?

“Thank you… Belle…” he says as the phone goes silent and the line dead.

The breath chokes in her throat, the words gone, unsaid. She pushed him away all those times before, pushed away the man she couldn’t remember. Couldn’t remember like those words on the tip of her tongue.

Her words. Her books. Her library…her libraries. Those books, those chapters…those lines written upon her heart…no her mind does not remember him, but her heart? Oh her heart knows the words written there, the words to the song that was older than time, to a story written in prose engraved deeper than the chasms in her mind. Her heart knows the words, the words that would never die again on her tongue.

“I remember…and I love him.”

 

 

* * *

**Part Three: These Hands Won’t Let Go**

_So, go, go, go,_   
_Get out of here._   
_Go away,_   
_Get out of here._

As Bae’s hand closed around his, he closed his eyes. His son was back; the hand he had let go of all those unfathomable years ago was back in his. This hand was larger, callused and firmer than the child’s hand he had held before, but that warmth and that pulse…That was proof his son was real and back in his grasp. The joy and love that swirled through him was almost powerful enough to overcome the darkness and pain.

Rumplestiltskin didn’t want to die. He couldn’t die. There was too much still to do, there was more still, so much more. There was unfinished business and deals still to be made. There was this unknown, reclaimed son, this Neal…this man that his Bae had become to get to know.

There was love to find again. He gripped his son’s hand harder. If Snow White was not successful, if he had not been persuasive enough to sway that supposed white heart everything was done, everything was gone.

Cora would destroy Storybrooke; she would kill everyone before the sun set on this day if she was not stopped - finally. If he did not see to it that the monster he had created was stopped he would see the death of his son, his grandson…of his Belle. There was not much in his life that he had ever loved, and he had lost all of it at least once before, he wasn’t quite in the mood to lose it again.

Milah. He had loved her. He truly had. Of course though, those were memories of another time, another man. She had been lost to him so long it hardly registered any more.

Bae. He had loved that boy from the moment he had first started to daydream of a child, of a son he could have one day in those beautiful first years with his Milah…and he had never stopped loving him, ever. Lost sight of it, misplaced it, yes, but never had he ever stopped loving him.

Belle, the love of his entire existence. She the beauty that saw the goodness in a dark soul and saw the man in the beast. Belle, the woman that refused to cower to him, refused to let him descend into darkness, and refused to let him slide. She did make him want to be better, really did make him want to go back to that best version of himself. For her, for Bae…for himself. Belle, brave, beautiful and perfection personified, Belle. He loved that woman and she held his world and his heart.

These three people he could admit freely he had loved, two he still loved and would for eternity. Yet, yet there was something else that was squeezing around his heart like a fist. Not the poison, no he knew this feeling. It was the feeling of reluctant feelings, a reluctant change of heart.

He had been blind sided by Henry’s kinship, had been caught more than off guard. It had shaken him to his marrow. This boy was more significant than he had ever fathomed. Rumplestiltskin had always gone to great lengths to never be caught off guard, to always be five steps ahead, to anticipate and be proactive versus reactive but he had never been knocked off kilter more than when it became clear that the boy that would be his undoing was a boy of his blood.

So many scenarios had run through his mind after that steel, poisoned hook pierced his chest. Kill the boy. Send the boy away, Wonderland perhaps…if he could find a way. It always circled back to killing him before he could finish him.

Kill a child? Kill his grandson. Had he not fought for the innocents, way back in the beginning? Back before he forgot what it meant to love purely, back when fear of losing love was stronger than his fear of losing power, hadn’t he become what he was so that innocent boys wouldn’t die in the name of another’s unholy war?

Could he do that? He could.

Would he?

He blinked, looking up and between his son and Emma, the parents of the boy that would be the undoing of him. They were soul mates. It was written in the language of their bodies, in the looks they had when they thought the other wasn’t looking. It made his chest constrict and his choices even more difficult, if that were possible.

Emma was Bae’s Belle.

Bae had just been introduced to his son after years apart, after years of not knowing he lived… Rumplestiltskin lost his breath, lungs full of poison and regret, just another type of poison, and he stuttered through a gasping cough.

Bae would not suffer as he had done. He could not do that. He could not take Bae’s son away from him. He could not kill an innocent boy…he could not kill his grandson.

“You need to leave. Now…” he spoke suddenly, causing Emma and Neal to turn and stare at him like he had grown a second head.

“What?” Emma furrowed her brow at him.

He struggled, trying to sit up, Neal was quickly next to him, helping “Pop…careful,” he muttered concern in his eyes.

Rumplestiltskin was reassured of his decision.

“This has to end…and it has to be Cora and I, you need to go. Go, get Henry, get the rest of your family Emma, if you must…get to Hook’s ship…”

“Pop, what are you saying?” Neal searched his face.

“I can’t explain…my boy,” Rumplestiltskin cupped his son’s cheek with infinite tenderness, tenderness that he seldom displayed, “There isn’t time, but…I’ve a favor, and I know I’ve no right to ask…” he paused to fight down a cough and will his stomach not to revolt and deliver up the blood and bile he knew was building there, “Get my Belle. She’s…she’s in the Storybrooke Hospital, she…she doesn’t remember who she is…she doesn’t remember our world, but you have to get her safe. Please…”

Rumplestiltskin unintentionally squeezed harder his son’s hand as another wave of pain coursed through him; the poison was attacking his nervous system.

“We aren’t going to leave you,” Emma was kneeling next to Neal, “We’ll figure this out…we aren’t leaving, unless it’s together.”

Rumplestiltskin couldn’t fight off the rye, sardonic chuckle that came out broken and pathetic, “Emma, if you want to live, if you want your son and his father…my son, to live you both do exactly as I say, no questions. You will go. You will leave here now.”

He stared at his son; neither let their gazes stray, even as the intensity and the struggle increased. Father and son, reunited just to be pulled apart again. Neal’s eyes were soft and on the edges they fear showed. Softly in the shadows of the iris Rumplestiltskin saw a glimpse of forgiveness and regret.

That same regret and fear was tenfold in his own, “I made the wrong choice Bae, and I never should have let you go. That has haunted me all these…” another racking cough doubled Rumplestiltskin, Neal hit his father’s back to help clear the liquid filling his lungs, “years. I won’t do it again, I won’t. I am choosing what I should have then. I’m choosing you, I’m choosing family. Take your family…our family and go. Please, get out of here…while you still can.”

Neal’s face crumpled, tears formed in the corners of his eyes, “Papa…”

Emma watched in her own state of horror as it all built around her, the realizations and the inescapable fate. “Mr. Gold,” she whispered placing a hand on his knee, “You don’t have to do this…we can fight, we can still…”

Rumplestiltskin closed his eyes, “No dear Emma, we can’t. Take care of my son…of your son. If you can, look after my…” he struggled to keep air, “my Belle. There is no other way to be sure you’re safe… Let me to deal with…my old friend, my old enemy…”

Emma felt hot tears start to stream down her cheeks, she couldn’t speak, couldn’t answer, she looked to Neal.

“Emma, go get Henry and your parents…” Neal said softly, moving his gaze slowly from his father to the mother of his child.

“Neal we…”

“Go,” Neal cut her off holding her eyes.

Emma seemed to search for something but finally nodded, “Okay… Mr. Gold, I …I just want…” she searched for words.

Rumplestiltskin smiled faintly, “I know…I wouldn’t have ever…picked you for Bae…but…but he always did know better than I…you are family Emma,” he squeezed her hand that was still on top his knee.

Emma’s tears increased, “I never believed you were as bad as they said…” she leaned up and kissed his cheek with a small, sad smile, “Rumplestiltskin, Henry is lucky to have you as his grandfather…”

Rumplestiltskin laughed harshly, it came out more as a cough.

Emma rose, looked again at Neal, begging with her eyes for him to change his mind. Neal gave a small shake of his head and directed her to the side door with his eyes. Emma hesitated but finally nodded and disappeared out the door.

“Papa…I don’t know if I can do this, I don’t think I can leave you,” Neal looked up at the pain stricken face of his father. He could hardly remember a time where his father had actually been hurt. After becoming the Dark One Rumplestiltskin never knew physical pain, he was invincible.

The man before Neal - Baelfire was weak, dying…vulnerable. It was his father in front of him not the Dark One; the curse was all but faded.

“It’s back to you and I… My boy, I am sorry for what I’ve done, for all that…” The cough, choking this time took several moments for Rumplestiltskin to recover from, “Let me make this right…finally. We’re out of time…go. Please, go. Find my Belle…get our family safe!”

Neal broke down; a sob cracked the barely intact facade, “Papa! I love you,” he hugged his father, head against his middle as he kneeled on the floor.

“And I love you Bae…so very much…

 

 

* * *

_Go, go,_   
_Get out of here._   
_Go away,_   
_Get out of here._

Across town Belle was frantically arguing with the nurse, “No! I’m telling you I am Belle! Be- _lle_!” she cried throwing open the door of the small wardrobe pulling out her purse and small bag of clothing from the night she was admitted. The night she lost herself, she shuddered at the memory.

“Ma’am I must insist…!” the nurse put her hands on Belle’s arm.

Belle whirled around, she focused on the nurse’s face, “Wait, I know you!” Belle lifted her finger at her “You were my nurse when Regina had me locked up!” The normally gentle Belle growled at the women, causing the nurse for a moment to be reminded of Mr. Gold.

The Beauty had picked up a few of the Beast’s habits.

“Get out of my room, I’m getting dressed and then I’m leaving. I’ve got a man to save…” Belle bore holes into the woman with her fierce and blazing blue gaze.

The nurse was frozen, mouth agape, eyes wide and startled.

“Get out, get out, get out!” Belle waved her hands and the nurse finally pulled back to reality and scurried from the room.

Belle knew the nurse was surely calling Regina, Regina had to be behind this in some way, and quickly shed the ghastly yellow paper like gown and scrambled into the brown skirt and blouse and jacket. Shoving her feet, sans stockings, into her low boots she was rushing out the door.

She had to get to him. She had to find him; she had lost him too many times already, not one more time.

His shop. He had to be at his shop. “Answer Rumple…please answer!” she pleaded under her breath as she dialed his cell phone yet again. It didn’t even ring this time, just went straight to his message.

“Wait for me…please! Don’t leave me…don’t leave me again!” she wished against the fear in her head as she flew down the hospital halls and through the ER doors, leaving her nurse dazed in her wake.

“Rumple…please, don’t go.”

 

* * *

**Part Four: The Drowning Man**   


_Cold, dark sea,_  
 _Your waves are rocking me._  
 _I close my eyes and fall asleep._  
 _All eyes on me,  
_ _Your eyes on me._

Rumplestiltskin opened the lid on the wooden trunk that he had asked Bae to fetch for him before he had sent him to Hook’s ship. Inside were vials and bottles of all kind of shapes, sizes and colors. Most were cork stopped; others were screw down lids. He pulled a few up to look at their contents and let them down again as he determined they weren’t what he was looking for.

He heard Cora at the door; he felt the magic, his magic - his dagger tearing at the magic shield surrounding the building. It wouldn’t hold her at bay much longer. Regina...where was Regina? He should have felt her pressure on the shield, but he didn’t.

He didn’t have time to ponder it, the ending was coming, and the water was rushing up. He finally found the vial he had been searching for. It was unassuming and the greatest of his possessions, well certainly the greatest of his potions. It was what remained of True Love.

His True Love. There was barely a thimble full of swirling blue-gold, nearly translucent liquid. He had concocted it in the days after he had thrown Belle out of the Dark Castle. He had brewed it and put it up on a high shelf for it to cure, he didn’t want to know, not for a great while what became of it. He was scared of what he would see. If it hadn’t of been True Love the liquid would have turned black, would have thickened to tar, it had only been as he prepared his things for the transition to the new world that he dared look at what color the potion had become.

He had wept anew for the love that was lost to him.

The little bit in the vial had been of no real use, there hadn’t been enough to lace The Curse or break it. There hadn’t been enough to bring back magic or memories for his Belle. It was a scant thimble, a shining tangible truth that he had been loved and had loved in return. 

He had treasured it, but also loathed it in a way. He knew Belle had loved him, even as he had thrown her out. Of course he had known, it was, if he was being truthful, the reason why he had actually thrown her out.

Love was a weakness and a lie. Love was perhaps the greatest illusion; the greatest jape because, until Belle, love had done nothing but desert Rumplestiltskin. 

He was alone now. Again, love had deserted him, left him alone. It was different this time however, he realized as he pulled the cork stopper from the vial. 

He had sent Bae and Emma away. Sent them away not in anger but in love. He sent them away because he loved them, sent them away to save them. He closed his eyes; he was feeling the poison working harder to slow his heart. He had come so far. He was sacrificing himself for those that he loved, for his family.

Family.

It was true, it had always been true, Henry - the boy - was his undoing but now, as things found startling clarity he realized it wasn’t at all how he had thought.

He was being undone by love, by family, by things he had never fathomed he would have again. The feelings rolling through him were undoing, they were shaking free an icy, numb heart. The curse – his curse was being undone, he felt it slipping from his fingers, felt the magic draining from his veins. Oh yes, that little boy who brought the Savior, who wormed his way into his heart, who reunited him with Bae...the little boy that had his eyes and something too of his smile. Not to mention it seemed his guile and his wit…he had Bae’s heart though, Bae’s goodness. Yes, Henry was his undoing but what was being undone was everything he never wanted to be in the first place. Not truly.

Rumplestiltskin tipped back the vial and swallowed the contents just as he felt the last of the shield give way. Cora had breached the shop.

Rumplestiltskin felt the liquid running through his body, meeting and combating the witch’s brew. It wouldn’t last for long and it wouldn’t be able to bind it completely, it was a show, a front to buy a few moments more. 

The potion did its job and Rumplestiltskin was able to stand, though he was leaning heavily on his cane, when Cora crossed the threshold.

He straightened his spine and held his head up. He met her gaze brazenly, lips curling back in a hateful sneer. She tipped her head at him, a threatening smile of her own plastered across her face.

“Rumplestiltskin...it’s been a while,” she stepped closer to him, eyes never leaving his. 

Rumplestiltskin’s gaze missed nothing, he saw that his name was all but gone from the blade in her hand; she had to know that too. He was without a doubt the weakest party here. She could end him with a flick of her wrist.

Or so he wanted her to believe.

True Love was in his veins, weaving and knitting health and magic back to his body. It wouldn’t last long, he knew, but if he acted quick and sure it would last long enough.

“Not long enough...Cora,” he spat the name; it was vile in his mouth. 

“Oh, you wound me Rumple, you sound almost like you’re not happy to see me,” she mockingly pouted. 

“Why Cora, whatever makes you think that? The fact that I’ve tried, with the assistance of your daughter to either trap you or kill you a minimum of twice?” he knew the potion was reaching it’s zenith, he would have to make his move, and soon. But where was Regina? He couldn’t neutralize them both. “Where prey tell is your daughter? I thought the both of you would take pleasure in ending me...” 

Cora half circled him, “She’ll be along...it gives us some time alone, just us...as it was, so long ago...” she gave a breathy sigh.

Rumplestiltskin turned himself on his heel, following her arc, she was so predictable, and he thanked the gods for that.

“I’ve always been curious Cora,” he kept the tall mirror in his sights without looking directly at it, “Did you ever love me, truly?”

Cora actually looked surprised for a moment, her eyes widening a fraction, “I had to rip out my own heart Rumplestiltskin...what do you think?”

Rumplestiltskin had to act, this would be his only chance he’d have, and the poison would start to burn its way back.

They circled each other once more, “You just loved the power more, more than me, more that even your daughter, has it been worth it, Cora?” he asked it softly, but it cut deep and true.

Cora’s lip parted slowly and her eyes again went wide in shock, not entirely from his words however.

Rumplestiltskin dropped his cane, lifting both of his hands. They had finally circled to the full-length mirror that was partially hidden with an old quilted blanket; he only needed a sliver of the surface visible. He gestured to the mirror grandly, making large ripples appear, with another motion just milliseconds from the first he sent Cora heading for the mirror, it was the last bit of magic he had left in his bones. 

Cora screamed as she flew backwards toward the rippling portal, throwing her arms out, the Dark One’s dagger was still clutched in her right hand. Her retreat halted then, inches from the portal that still rippled in the mirror.

“Oh, you’ll not trick me twice with that Rumplestiltskin! How foolish! Foolish, foolish, foolish!” Cora screamed, the scales of her apparent sanity were tipping.

She lifted the dagger in front of her and gave it a violent turn, whatever small hold the dagger still had on Rumplestiltskin was enough as he jerked and crumpled to his knees in a puddle of gasping, tormented pain.

“How the tables have turned my little Imp,” Cora cooed, voice laced with steel and malice, “It’s now you, helpless and vulnerable. You know I have to kill you...I need your power you see,” Cora kneeled next to increasingly frail Dark One.

“Love is a weakness, it’s always been your greatest Rumplestiltskin, do you know that?” Cora petted his hair, brushing it away from his brow.

The poison was back, full force, tightening the fist around his heart, crippling him. He gasped for air like a beached fish. He tried to control, tried to will himself not to flail in front of her, not to show weakness, but he failed.

He always failed. She was right love was his weakness. He might have been craven, mad, sadistic, selfish, and to points - evil, but it had always been a madness lit by love, twisted love at times, but at the beginning and at the end love of something was always what spurred him forward. 

Love of power was not True Love, but thank the gods it was True Love that fueled him now.

Cora was still talking, but he wasn’t listening, he focusing, he was summoning anything that was left in him, strength, magic, love...courage, he was summoning and binding it, cleaving it into a motley bit. It was something, it might not be much what he found was true and deep, the marrow of his bones, the forgotten bits that were left after everything else had burned away, he could overcome. 

With focused deliberation, he knew the next action would kill him, if he succeeded or if he didn’t, so he could not fail. He lightning quick lashed out his right to tightly grip over Cora’s, where it was wrapped over the hilt of his dagger dangerously close to his throat. With everything he had left in him, that he had gathered together he flipped the dagger to poise over where her heart would have been and plunged the dagger down, hilt deep.

Cora was too stunned to do react; she only was able to blink as the dagger sparked in her chest with the escaping tangents of magic that had been in residence in her being. The dagger’s hit had been true, heart or no, the dagger found it’s target and it was done. By the living Dark One’s hand Cora had been slain. There would be no transfer of authority this day.

The R was fading fast from the blade as Rumplestiltskin let go and collapsed back on the floor, Regina lived...but Cora was dead and that threat was the greatest there had been to face. He would be dead soon as well, his mind was hazy, vision was blurred by black dots as he began to lose consciousness.

This was how it had to be. The greatest evil two realms had ever known was dead and the only rival was dying now. The Curse of the Dark One would finally end, no longer would it perpetuate, it would end, the name and curse fading away, a beast would finally find peace...would finally find rest. The Dark One would surrender to the night, surrender up it’s life and fall back to the arms of hell and sin – the Dark One’s only ever constant friends.

Rumplestiltskin’s eyes went vacant and the last breath escaped and he breathed no more.

* * *

Belle screamed his name when she burst through the archway into the back of the shop, finding Rumplestiltskin on the floor, the body of a woman next to him, lifeless.

“No...no, no, no!” she screamed falling frantically to her knees, “No! Rumplestiltskin, no...don’t you dare...no!” she pawed at his suit, checking for a pulse in his neck. “No!” she could only scream, her throat tight and her mind whirling, swimming, drowning.

“No...Rumplestiltskin, I remember! I love you! You can’t...oh you can’t!” she wailed even as she shook his body, lifeless but still warm to her hand, he had not been gone long.

“It’s not supposed to be like this! It’s not!” she screamed, tears running rivers down her cheeks, nose running. She didn’t care.

“Damn you Rumplestiltskin,” she collapsed on his chest, breath heaving from her too tight chest.

“I was too late, I...tried, but I...” she moaned, feel dizzy, feeling nauseous. 

She stayed that way for who knew how long, she surely didn’t, it could have been hours, it could have been minutes.

“Belle...” Emma was suddenly, from nowhere, beside her, Belle felt her hand on her body, “Belle, he’s gone...” Emma tried to pull her away.

“No!” Belle said ferociously, arms across him, she wouldn’t let him go.

“Belle...you’re Belle?” a male voice penetrated Belle’s blurry bubble.

“I’m Bae…I’m...I’m his son,” the man was kneeling across from her now, she felt his shadow cross hers, not waiting for confirmation of who she was, it had been rather obvious answer, she thought.

Belle didn’t move, or speak for a long moment, “He was looking for you...” she sniffed, rubbing at her nose, but not looking the man even as she saw his hands move to check for a nonexistent pulse in Rumplestiltskin’s body.

“I know, he found me... I heard his phone call to you today...you found him. You found my Papa...somewhere in that cursed man...you found him, I heard him with you and that was the first time in more years than I can remember that…that I heard the man I remembered, that I thought was gone. You found my Papa...thank you Belle...”

Belle looked up then, hearing the anguish, ...the pain, in the man’s voice as it cracked and tore over with his words. She met his gaze and saw the face of Rumplestiltskin son, eyes full of unshed tears, ache and regret.

“I love him...and in what time we had he talked of you, everything he did, good or bad...all the wrong he did he did with what started as pure intentions, he has a pure heart in there...I’ve seen it and I know how much he loved you…” she whispered, even as her voice was strangled her, her agony was almost too much to bear. They should have to be doing this.

That seemed to be what broke the dam that had been holding Bae back, or at least his tears.

In slow motion tears fell from Belle and Bae’s eyes, a sea of tears washing down haggard faces, born of broken hearts. They were the only hearts that had loved Rumplestiltskin purely, without malicious, conceit or with ulterior motives. They were only hearts that he had loved purely, wholly, truly. The hearts he had given up everything for...the hearts and the family he had ultimately died for.

As the wetness splattered Rumplestiltskin’s face, the sleeping, drowning man woke up.

After all, it was easy to die for what you loved; it was easy to surrender to the sea, to the dark arms of what was known and easy.

The hard part was living.

Rumplestiltskin gasped in a breath, yes, the hard part was living.

 

_Cold, dark sea,_  
 _Your waves are rocking me._  
 _I close my eyes and fall asleep._  
 _All eyes on me,  
_ _Your eyes on me._

**_-the end-_ **


End file.
